


Have Your Cake

by Elfbert



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 16:59:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfbert/pseuds/Elfbert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tiny piece for Rupert Graves' 50th Birthday. Oddly enough, based on real life events.</p><p>____________________________________________________________________________________</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have Your Cake

“It’ll be fun.” John glanced across at Sherlock. “It WILL be fun.” His tone changed from persuasive to ordering.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I fail to see why Lestrade suddenly needs to celebrate his birthday. He never has before.”

“You mean he’s never celebrated with you.”

Sherlock huffed - the closest John would get to an agreement.

 

Almost simultaneously Sherlock’s text alert sounded, and then John’s phone began to ring.

Both men stopped, and Sherlock placed the large white box he was carrying on a nearby wall. John wedged the bag full of bottles between his feet and answered his phone and Sherlock scowled at the text he’d received.

“Hi Lestrade,” John answered, as he tried to read Sherlock’s expression.

“All right, John. Look, I know I’m meant to be on my way to yours, but something’s just come up. You with His Highness?”

“Yes, he’s right next to me. What is it, a case?”

“Yeah - well, sort of. Made an arrest on that poisoning case. I need you two in and providing witness statements as fast as possible. Plus, you know, Sherlock to agree we’ve got the right person.”

John could hear the smile in Lestrade’s voice.

“Sure. We’ll get a cab, and then we can all head back to Baker Street after. Sound good?”

“Perfect. Cheers mate.”

John hung up as Sherlock was already striding into the road, hailing a cab.

 

They arrived at the yard, and Lestrade immediately filled them in on the suspect they now had in custody. Sherlock agreed it was the person he had suspected, and statements were quickly taken, signed and filed, ready for the case to go to the CPS.

“Brilliant,” Lestrade smiled at the two of them, rubbing his hands together. “Perfect birthday present. Now I can have tomorrow off knowing no one else has to deal with that.”

John grinned, picking up the clinking bag and heading for the lift. He glanced at Sherlock.

“Forgotten something?” He asked.

Sherlock glanced up from the phone he was tapping away on.

“The cake?” John prompted.

Sherlock, if possible, went paler than normal.

John turned. “Sherlock. Where is the birthday cake?”

“I...may have been distracted by Lestrade’s original text.”

Lestrade grinned. “You bought me cake?”

“We...I thought you might like it,” John answered. “But it seems the genius here can’t be trusted with caring for an inanimate object.”

“We can go back past the spot were...it may have been left,” Sherlock said, awkwardly.

John just sighed.

 

The cabbie slowed as Sherlock called out to him, and the three men peered into the gloom of the street.

“There....there’s someone there,” John said, opening the cab door.

A man stood over the box, the lid wide open.

He was, in appearance, what John would have called a tramp. An older man, with a full beard, dressed in a greatcoat completely at odds with the weather. His battered boots were full of holes, and two carrier bags sat next to his feet.

“I di’n’t steal it,” he said, as they approached.

“‘S all right, mate, we know,” Lestrade answered, before Sherlock could say anything.

John looked into the box. The cake was almost pristine...but for one large, obvious, finger-shaped scoop. The icing stuck to the man’s moustache told the rest of the story.

Lestrade quickly took in the situation. “Taste good?” he asked the man.

The man looked guilty for a moment, but then nodded. “Ain’t my birthday though.”

“Well, it is mine. And I’d like you to have the cake...take it as being late. Or early. And enjoy it.” He smiled.

John glowered at Sherlock, but they piled back into the cab, leaving a slightly bemused man and a large cake behind them.

 

As they entered 221 Mrs Hudson appeared from her front door.

“Oh, Detective Inspector, I was hoping to catch you. Many happy returns.”

“Thank you, Mrs Hudson,” Lestrade moved to kiss her on the cheek.

“We’d invite you up for cake,” John said, sending a poisonous glance toward Sherlock. “But Sherlock abandoned the cake on a wall where it was poked by a tramp.”

Mrs Hudson managed to look completely unsurprised by this turn of events. “Oh, well, just as well I made a cake earlier. Coffee and walnut, if that’s okay?”

Lestrade beamed. “My favourite, Mrs H. Absolutely perfect.”

 

Sherlock did his best not to enjoy any part of the celebration, in some sort of protest only understood by him. But perked up when Mrs Hudson also produced candles that couldn’t be blown out, and proceeded to make a burning smell in the kitchen so terrible that John and Lestrade insisted Mrs Hudson should join them in the pub, thereby leaving him in peace.


End file.
